


and it's all alright (even if it's not)

by Anonymous



Category: Kingdom Hearts
Genre: Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Torture, M/M, Panic Attacks, post kh3
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-06
Updated: 2019-04-06
Packaged: 2020-01-05 18:30:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,215
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18371687
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: Isa wakes up in the middle of the night with a panic attack. Luckily, he's not alone.





	and it's all alright (even if it's not)

**Author's Note:**

> i experienced something kind of traumatic yesterday, and decided to channel my emotions through fic. title taken from "after" by muna

Isa jerks awake with a muffled, hoarse cry.

He’s bolted upright in bed, hand on his neck, trying to claw off the phantom fingers he feels choking him out.  Body shudders as his sleep-sluggish mind struggles to take account of his current situation; the chains of nightmares weigh heavily on his shoulders, constrict his chest, make each breath a heavy, gasp.  

He goes through a mental routine, one created after too many nights spent suffering from demons he can’t quite shake.   _It’s okay. You’re safe._ And he knows this is true, in all technicality. He’s in his bedroom; Lea sleeps peacefully at his side; should he check the mirror, his eyes won’t flash fool’s gold.  He _knows_ this, but a body far too accustomed to trauma and a mind haunted by ghosts of pain and guilt can’t catch up to speed.  There’s ice in his veins, freezing him from his feet up his legs and to his heart, which beats a wild, unfathomable rhythm, and he’s sure if this continues, his ribs will shatter, a broken cage for his recently reunited heart.

Dread covers Isa like slime, something sticky and suffocating, his stomach churning in white fire fear, and Isa _can’t_ , he just _can’t._

He slips out from the covers, bare feet padding on the soft carpeted floor as quietly as he can manage to prevent waking his sleeping companion.  Panic rises with each step he takes, his knees threatening to buckle beneath the frigid, irrational fear, but he pushes himself forward out of instinct, utilizing every ounce of strength he can summon in the dead of the night. His hand trembles as he turns the doorknob to the bedroom across the apartment, the one he stayed in when he first moved in with Lea (when they walked on eggshells, when Isa could do little more than stare blankly at walls and tried to pretend he didn’t hear Lea cry himself to sleep some nights). Now, the room acts as a place of safety and recovery when he needs it most.

Not bothering to close the door behind him, he flicks on the projector, which casts the room in soft, glowing stars, sits in bed with his knees against his chest, and releases a shaky, uneven breath.

Here, there is nothing but the soothing stars and the war cry of his heart, which urges him to fight an unknown enemy, which makes his legs itch with the desire to run as far away as he possibly can.

(He did that, once. He stayed out until 4:00 in the morning, and when he returned, it was to Lea throwing his arms around him, cussing and crying and saying _I thought I lost you_.)

 _I’m sorry_ , Isa wanted to say, wants to say that now. _I thought I lost me, too._

Another surge of guilt-laden fear crashes against like a wave, thrashes his body about until he’s gasping for breath again.  His skin feels too tight for his body; his head feels screwed on all wrong. He scrubs his face with one of his hands, teeth catching on his palm.

_It’ll be alright. You’ll get through this. You always do._

_I just want it to end._

“Isa?”

The soft utterance of his name pulls him out of the throes of his misery, even if just for a moment. His gaze shoots to the doorway without moving his head - and there stands Lea, his sleep-warm body littered with stars.

 _You’re beautiful,_ his mind dumbly thinks, slurs the thought like he’s drunk. _I don’t deserve you._

Lea doesn’t move, and even though Isa can’t make out his expression all that well, he can feel Lea’s uncertainty from here.  

“Can I come in?”

Trial and error taught Lea to always ask.  Some days, Isa wanted Lea to join him, keep him company as he rode out the ebb and flow of his pain.  Other days, he wanted to be alone, to work through the tortured tangles of his brain, to weave his soul back together in peaceful solitude.

Tonight is not the latter.  Isa jerks his head in a nod, not trusting his tongue to say what he needs.

Lea shuffles forward then, all but crawls onto the bed and tucks his long legs beneath him like some kind of bird.  Up close, now, Isa can make him out - the sleep-tussled hair, the line of purple bruises Isa had sucked and kissed into his neck hours ago, the warm fire in those green eyes, keeping them both warm.  Isa feels himself relax, even just a fraction.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

Another lesson learned - sometimes Isa wants to discuss what’s bothering him, but other times, he simply does not or _cannot_.  Even now, what could Isa tell Lea that he does not already know? That some days he can still feel the scar in his forehead being cut, the smell of the burning flesh?  That Xehanort is a poison still in his veins, turning his blood black and sour? That he expects Lea will one day leave him, because how could he want to stay with someone so broken, someone he forgot once before?

And so he exhales a long breath, rests his chin on his knees. “No.”

Lea gives a small, half-smile and takes one of Isa’s hands, his thumb stroking along his wrist.  “Okay.”

The contact, as small as simple as it is, grounds Isa, gives him a new focal point. And so he breathes in and out, slow and steady, tries to focus on the soft, soothing caresses rather than the monsters in his mind. In and out, in and out, again and again and again. Tension bleeds out from his curled up form, body loosening all the more when Lea leans in, presses a kiss to Isa’s bare shoulder.  Isa looks at him now, meeting his eyes - there’s concern there, but mostly there is _calm_ , the lighthouse in the middle of a stormy, violent sea.

Minutes tick by, and only when his heart calms does he stretch out his legs, rolling his ankles to pop them. Relief.

Lea’s still quiet, still drawing shapeless patterns against Isa’s wrist.  Something new seizes Isa, something so terribly fond and grateful, and he swallows down the rush of warm emotion the best he can.  He acts without thinking, gently taking ahold of Lea’s hand and pulling him forward as Isa falls backwards. As his head hits the pillow, Lea covers his body like a lanky, warm blanket, sprawling across Isa’s chest and nuzzling into his neck with a fond sigh. Isa wraps an arm around Lea’s back, mindlessly rubs the muscle he can feel. Lea’s sigh is more purr than breath as he shifts, tucks himself beneath Isa’s chin.

Isa allows himself a small smile.

“Isa,” Lea murmurs, already halfway in sleep’s embrace, judging by the tone.

“Mm?”

Lea’s words are soft, mumbled against skin, and Isa can’t quite make them out, but they sound like love, feel like love pressed into him like a promise.

Isa holds on tightly, stares up at the glittering stars, and allows the soft whisper of love to whisk him back to sleep.

 

 _It comes on slow but_  
_It leaves much faster_  
_We need something to hold us_  
_During and after_


End file.
